Which Internal Organ Would You Sell First if You Needed the Money?

Times are a little tough at the old Fenton household this year--but not so bad that we couldn't take the time to send you this Christmas card.

Money has been tight; there's no denying that. But Bobby and I were adament that we were still going to send out presents to our closest friends for Christmas, financial crisis be damned. Instead of contributing to our national orgy of consumption, though, we decided make our own presents.

For the first two weeks in December, we transformed our house into Santa's workshop. Bobby, newly unemployed after that whole Leamen Brothers mess, even picked up a glue stick to help me out. It's amazing what you can make with regular items from around the house! Among the gifts we handcrafted were a cardigan sweater, a seashell necklace, and a DVD rack.

So, after hearing about this flurry of activity at the Fenton household, you're probably wondering where your present is. I'm sorry to say that we ran into a bit of money trouble* and were evicted.

Our first night "on the streets," we had to burn everything that we'd made just to stay warm: The sweater, the necklace, everything.

Huddled around the crackling flames, I told Bobby how lucky we were to still have each other. "It's funny that you say that," he said, "because I'm leaving you." Apparently, he had been planning this for a while, but hadn't found the right time to tell me. Bobby dialed his mistress on his Blackberry, and she picked him up 10 minutes later.

Thankfully, that was my only homeless night. Glenda, our daughter, has graciously put me up in her spare bedroom and loaned me the money to send out Christmas cards this year. I'm confident that this whole "mess" will blow over. Once the economy picks up, I think I'll start job-hunting--but 25 years as a professional housewife doesn't make for a solid resume.

While the future looks bleak, the holidays are here. My troubles aren't going to stop me from wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! If Bobby was here and not with that whore, I'm sure he would wish the same.

*The mutual fund that Bobby had been putting our money into, the "Coke" fund, turned out to be actual cocaine--I forgave him on the condition that, as soon as we could afford it, he would check himself into a rehab clinic.